Red Velvet
by lyredenfers
Summary: You can't have your cake and eat it too. Keladry meets her match.


**The Right Allocations**

**

* * *

**

_Keladry, meet Julian.  
Julian, I see you've already become acquainted with Keladry's file._

* * *

Keladry of Mindelan was covered in mud from head to toe, which may or may not have accounted for the fact that she was feeling a bit tetchy.

It also might not have had something to do with the fact that there was impeccably clean, blonde-haired man sitting in her makeshift office, leather boots on her desk.

She'd never trusted blondes really. Oh, of course she wasn't one to discriminate against people based on something they couldn't help – what had master Lindhall called it? Germetics? Gastretics? Genetics, that was it! – she was Lady Knight Keladry "equal opportunity" of Mindelan after all.

But seriously, there was something inherently evil about blondes; Blaice, Joren, Lord Buchard… even that princess from the Copper Isles that Lady Alanna had killed. Someone should mention this to the crown at once – or, you know, someone more useful like Lord Raoul. Keladry couldn't imagine why no one had thought of this earlier – genius that it was – get _rid_ of all the blondes!

The man (_blonde_ man, and thus should be locked away at once!) in Keladry's chair coughed slightly, and she realized that she was standing in the doorway, looking avidly at nothing.

She recognized him as one of the men in the King's Own – part of a new company that had been sent to help with the building of the new fort. And therefore, her subordinate! The cheek! If he thought that, just because she was female… and staring into space, again.

Keladry fixed him with a cold stare (nothing so effective as the one with which she was met) and frowned. "Can I help you, private…?"

"Sark." A small smirk played around his lips. "I don't suppose you have any wine?"

He, _Private Sark_ Keladry corrected herself, had a slight accent. Not altogether unfavourable if she was being fair, and she was always fair. But that didn't change the fact that he was bloody annoying and meant to be out digging in the mud.

Taking in the contents of her office, Keladry squinted towards at the travel bags in front of her. "I'm sure you would know that it's in the second pack from your left. Soldier."

Private Sark raised his eyebrows, the picture of innocence. "What are you suggesting, General?"

Ooh, deliberately _not_ using her female title and thereby emphasizing it all the more – this was a new one. Keladry grudgingly awarded the soldier a point; he was clever, she'd give him that much.

"Look soldier, you can't pull this female inferiority business with me. I'm a woman and I happen to be your superior. Deal with it."

Sark's eyebrows rose further, almost meeting his hairline. "Don't flatter yourself _Lady Keladry_ but I've worked for plenty of scarier women than yourself." Voice heavy with sarcasm, he stretched exaggeratedly and put his hands behind his head, elbows pointing outward.

Keladry was curious inspite of herself. "Lady Alanna?"

"Who?" Sark stared at her.

She stared back appalled. "Wha…where are you from, soldier?"

"Sark," said Sark promptly.

"Sark of Sark?" Keladry felt slightly out of her league – perhaps this is what had driven Sir Myles to being a desk knight. Evil blondes, who didn't know who Lady Alanna was.

The man took his feet down off of her desk and looked thoughtfully at her. "Julian, I suppose then."

"Julian?" She found herself repeating.

He nodded decisively, "Of Sark."

"Well, Julian, please get out of my office."

The man vacated her chair, bowing with a flourish, and smiled at her as he made for the door. "Well, Milady, since you asked so nicely."

Keladry seethed. Flirting with superiors? Not allowed!

He wouldn't be so forward if only she were Lord Raoul.

She smiled sweetly at Julian's retreating back. "Oh and soldier, please report for an extra shift of latrine duty."

Julian turned, his face empty of that nasty smirk. He was looking sadly at his nails, which were oddly clean and not caked in mud. "What would you say about a proposition?"

Insulting her virtue! "Soldier!" Keladry barked, her cheeks definitely not turning pink.

He smirked, "Not that kind of proposition General, don't get your hopes up – more of a bet, in exchange for being let off of latrine…"

Enough already. This. Was. Outrageous. "Two extra shifts!"

Keladry would have called what he did next pouting, had it been any other man. "Brute," he said. It was strangely endearing.

This was her cue to raise her eyebrows though. "Don't make me say it, Sark."

The smirk was back. "What - vow your undying love for me? General, I am flattered, but I must insist this is most inappropriate."

"Gods all bless, man, do you have a death wish? If you don't get out of my sight this second- "

Sark was leaning against the doorframe, seemingly unconcerned with Keladry's threats. "I wasn't going through your things, you know - "

Keladry snorted, she wasn't _stupid_. "Soldier, I tie my packs with a sheepshank knot. You retied them with a dogshank." A small difference, but noticeable to her nonetheless. She'd tied those knots a thousand times in the past month alone.

A flicker of something flashed across Sark's face, though it disappeared as quickly as it'd come. "Say, they said you were stupid."

"Did they?"

"Yes and my sources are most usually correct." He looked at her reproachfully, as if she had deliberately voided the credibility of these 'sources'.

"Your sources?" Keladry was starting to have a headache, by this point.

"Mmm. And I must say, I'm pleasantly surprised." Sark favoured her with a smile. "Conversation in the Own isn't exactly intellectually stimulating. That officer is one of the most horrifyingly _dull_ people I've had the misfortune of meeting in all of my years."

At this, Keladry felt possessive outrage – if she wasn't mistaken, Domitan of Masbolle was Sark's officer. "That _horrifyingly dull_ officer is a very good man, and one of my oldest friends."

Sark smiled charmingly, all sincerity. "Don't worry, I won't hold it against you." And then, he proceeded to saunter out of her office, as if he owned the place.

Keladry groaned and sank into her chair. She had a feeling that she should chase after the man and … _whip_ him or something, but she was just too tired for this.

In the morning she'd send an urgent message, petitioning the crown for the right to imprison all blondes indefinitely. In the mean time, she'd let Dom deal with Julian of Sark.

The Lady Knight Keladry of Mindelan had almost fallen asleep on her desk when she was stuck with a thought that made her sit up, completely awake.

Where in Mithros' name was the fief of Sark?

* * *

Julian is, of course, the infamous Julian Sark from Alias. Not mine.

P.S. Points and adoration to whomever guesses the song from which the title of this chapter is taken.

ever and always,

Fenella


End file.
